


Discretion

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Clothed Sex, F/M, Fear of Discovery, Finger Sucking, Hermaphroditic Trolls, Masturbation, Public Sex, Self-Penetration, Tentabulges
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-06
Updated: 2013-03-06
Packaged: 2017-12-04 09:32:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/709240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sollux, accustomed to having plenty of time for himself, is annoyed by everyone and emotionally frustrated by the absence of solitude on the meteor. When he becomes frustrated in other ways and experiences a deeply probing journey of self-discovery in the middle of the computer room, he is forced into a difficult struggle with himself. Insecure and mortified, he must conceal his feelings from everyone.</p><p>Secretly it's just PWP about Sollux's unruly tentacle junk shenanigans, though. It can't be tamed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Discretion

**Author's Note:**

> I can't find the ancient prompt for this fill now that I've finally finished it.

The worst thing about being trapped on a meteor hurtling through space is probably, Sollux thinks, waiting for death. Second place is definitely the company, he decides as he hears the nasal whine of Eridan elsewhere in the room. But third, and particularly insidious, is the total absence of privacy for a race accustomed to solitude. Someone calls him back for mindnumbing busywork or stupid computer issues every time he tries to get away, and as much as Feferi seems content with all the admittedly pleasant feelings jams, being in the same room but never alone with her is frustrating Sollux beyond belief.

He taps idly at the spacebar with one index finger as he rests his chin in the other hand, wondering if she feels the same way and indulging for a moment the idea of taking her back to his respiteblock. Maybe the death of everyone and everything is close enough to damn the consequences and ignore what everyone else thinks. The flat sleeping platforms are enough like concupiscent couches to make using them worthwhile, comfortable enough to spread out on even if sleeping is almost impossible, and he remembers seeing, stacked high on a shelf in a maintenance closet for some reason, a few metal pails-

 _Shit_ , he thinks, squirming as his bulge begins to unsheath itself in response to the ideas, hitting the loose denim confines of his jeans and forcing itself into an uncomfortable coil. The rough fabric abrades its flexible membrane and Sollux winces as he hazards a quick glance around, reaching down to hold it in place. It wriggles against his palm.

"Fuck," he mumbles out loud, pressing his legs uncomfortably together as his nook reacts. During sGrub there never was privacy but there were options, plenty of time alone with Feferi and, more importantly, no one to interrupt them - he frowns at the trolls scattered around the room, Tavros explaining some plushie game to Nepeta and a half-interested Feferi, Equius sweating at Aradia as she ignores him and stares at a monitor, Gamzee sprawled asleep in a heap of bicycle horns, Eridan alone in a dark corner. Karkat, Terezi, and Kanaya all look absorbed with their computers and he peers suspiciously around the room for Vriska, unable to see her anywhere. Briefly he wonders if this sudden arousal is her fault, but if anything his mind is too clear, vividly remembering the time Feferi spread him out on a giant brain and-

"No," he snarls at himself, but the memory is banished too late; his bulge is fully extruded, too swollen with excitement to retract into its protective sheath. No option remains but to do something about it. Bothered by the idea of being caught by Vriska, Sollux settles in to wait until he can account for everyone's whereabouts, trying to ignore the building sensation between his legs and the way Karkat obliviously, infuriatingly watches a stupid movie at the next workstation some distance away. He stares at his work instead and with one hand adds a missing bracket, but after a moment the bulge struggles away from his palm and against his closed legs, the thin membrane of the organ coated with lubricating fluid. The tip wriggles insistently between his thighs and begins to thrust.

Sollux's hand leaves the keyboard and clasps tight over his nose and mouth as he exhales, a shaking breath as he squeezes his legs tighter and fights to ignore the hot, slick pulsing that engulfs his nook at the idea of letting the bulge slide in, the dizzying rush of arousal torturing the part of the tendril curled aching and unstimulated above his thighs. His legs weaken at the thought and his bulge hungrily worms its way closer, the pressure of his flesh restraining and stimulating it as he tries to look calm and perspiration breaks out on his forehead. Vriska, unintentionally merciful in her timing, storms into the room and throws herself into her computer chair with a clatter of furious typing.

* * *

Feferi yawns and stretches as Gamzee sleepily rolls over with a series of loud honks, fortunately drowning out Sollux's intake of breath as his legs relax and the tendril squirms between them. He pushes up his glasses with a shaking hand and stares through blurry eyes at his monitor as the bulge curls backward and eagerly works into his body, following the familiar contours of his nook and brushing hard against the chitinous ridges of its internal receptors until he clenches tight in a reflexive shudder, swallowing a groan as the flexible shaft blindly stretches and probes him.

With difficulty he suppresses the shiver running down his spine, hands splayed flat on the desk as the trapped bulge writhes with violent interest against his receptors; after staying pent up for so long the feeling is more intense than usual, his nook wetter, both parts hypersensitized to heat and friction. Excitement builds low in his stomach like an itch to do more, to go faster, to relieve the tension in his thorax and the tightness in the delicate, swelling membranes of his globes. A soft whine escapes him and he stiffens in alarm. No one appears to notice, he gratefully notes as he looks over his shoulder. With particular relief he sees Terezi still thoughtfully licking her monitor.

He thinks for a moment that he could try to get away despite the impossibility of walking, that he could opt for the possibility of flying out of the room. Even getting away would draw attention if he failed to explain himself, though, and Karkat’s increasingly neurotic leadership drives him to use Trollian viewports occasionally; he could easily check on Sollux's whereabouts, could open a viewport and see him splayed out on his sleeping platform or hunched over the load gaper in a futile attempt at privacy, tendril working deep in his nook. It would be even easier to draw attention if absent. Sollux closes his eyes and tries not to imagine Karkat watching him, banishing the unbidden image of Karkat's bulge unsheathing at a sight he would find pathetic and loathsome, but the feedback from below nearly overwhelms him as the tentacle quickens its writhing in response. The crowd in the room makes the sensation more intense, worsened by the way he's forced to press his hand over his mouth and take shuddering breaths through his nose to stay silent, his face flushed in a way that he knows anyone could recognize with a close look. The combination of shame and arousal at the idea of being caught shoots cascading thrills through his belly and his bulge begins a steady, twisting thrust, stroking itself on each ridge it massages as delirious pulses of excitement wash over his brain. A honk from the hornpile makes him twitch, but his bulge stills for only an instant before resuming its furious activity in the tight channel, slipping in and out over his receptors with synchronized waves of pleasure and soft, wet sounds he knows he can hear and prays no one else will notice.

Sollux licks his lips and shifts in his chair, looking warily behind him before he rocks back in an attempt to look bored as he spreads his nook further for the penetrating bulge. He gets a brief glimpse of Terezi licking her screen and sees Karkat absorbed with his own monitor, not sparing a glance. Breathing a sigh of relief, Sollux leans back and closes his eyes, fingers curling into involuntary fists atop his thighs; he bites his lip and tenses his nook around the thick bulge working harder in him, struggling to finish before anyone else can notice, overcome by the twin sensations and the building heat. Caught up in his approaching climax, subtly rocking his hips in the chair to fuck himself deeper, Sollux never notices the soft sound of footsteps behind him.

"Hey!" Feferi exclaims, leaning over the back of the chair. "What's going on?" Karkat gives her a cursory glance, rolls his eyes disgustedly, and returns his attention to his computer. Sollux takes a moment, heart pounding frantically with the shock of being interrupted and the cold terror in his thorax that had stopped even his bulge for a moment, to be grateful that Karkat disdains Feferi’s public displays of affection.

He tilts his head further back and stares up at her, shades hiding the feverish light of his eyes as his thoughts race for a way to hide his situation. His thighs press reflexively together beneath the desk but his bulge is already buried deep between them, substantial and thick and going nowhere but further inside. Even the motion of his legs tightens his nook around it as it stretches him with a sharp wriggle, a pulsing spasm that sends a burst of pleasure shooting up his spine and nearly brings tears to his eyes. The taste of blood fills his mouth as he bites his tongue to hold back a groan.

"I'm just trying to get some work done," he finally snaps, his hushed voice coming out more defensive than he intends and a good deal higher besides. She frowns. "Is that a fucking crime," he persists, "is it a _crime_ for me to have _hobbies_ -" She taps him on the head, just a little too hard to be a pat, and he falls silent.

"Wanna shoal me what you’re working on?" she asks, resting both elbows on the back of the chair. Sollux shudders at the impossibility of explaining it to her in his condition as the bulge speeds up inside him despite the urgent need not to be caught, its twisting, writhing length rubbing rough and fast against his receptors as the delayed climax builds low in his belly again and tremors of arousal set his hands quivering on the keys. Feferi yawns and leans closer, hair tumbling over the back of the chair and brushing against his neck. It smells clean, some floral shampoo replacing the smell of the sea, and he narrowly controls the urge to nestle his face in it.

He takes a shuddering breath instead and gestures to a blue segment of text just as her fingers graze his horns, a lazy little motion that could be accidental but makes him tremble in his seat. "This imports the entity that dies," he manages, mind flooding again with memories of the time she had him on the brains, globes-deep in his nook in full view of the world. "It's me."

"Oh really?" The teasing way her fingers move, tracing around his horns without stroking the sensitive, swollen membranes at their bases, makes him sure she knows. "And what happens next?" she asks. _I'll get to fall asleep for a few hours if I'm really lucky_ , he thinks with a half-hysterical urge to laugh that comes out a stifled cough.

"If KK outlives me," he explains instead, unable to stop shivering as she brushes the smaller horns and his bulge reacts, driving into him in a sudden, hard thrust, "i-it sends him a cascade of shitty hatemail until _he_ dies."

"Mm," she sighs halfheartedly, fingers ghosting through his hair. "I guess that's finteresting," she continues as she touches the larger horns and he tastes blood again, biting back a moan. She glides sharp fingershields down the smooth, chitinous arcs, teasing the thickened membranes with a soft tickling motion and he has no idea how long he can last, the tentacle driving furiously into his dripping nook, his thorax heavy and electric with the need to finish. There is no way he hasn’t soaked through his jeans.

“FF,” he breathes a little pleadingly, glancing at Karkat to make sure the headphones are drowning out the sound, “we could go somewhere if you’re going to play with me. Just make an excuse.”

“I think it’s too late for that,” she whispers, leaning over and curling her cool hands around the horns. “Looks like you’re just about there already.” He stiffens, fingers clawing at the chair arms as his bulge coils and plunges more eagerly into him. “I wish I could dive in though,” she says wistfully. “I’d like to sea you. But you’re in a rush, so you’d just have to shoal me on the desk.”

He tilts his head back, staring up at her with glassy eyes. The idea of being exposed on the desk before everyone is mortifying, but he’s close and desperate and nervous enough that he can imagine how it would be, all those eyes on him as his bulge works intently between his legs. “You’d like that?” he asks, more a question than a statement - he’s always been terrible at talking dirty when she gets going, spends more time biting back noises and being too nervous to look at her, not that she seems to mind either way. “Everyone seeing me fuck myself?” She squeezes harder in answer and finally gives both large horns a solid stroke, cuts through the teasing and sends a heavy shock of pleasure down his spine.

“I fin they’d all be shellous,” she murmurs, squeezing rhythmically.

“What?” he manages, trembling, his bulge a writhing flurry of activity against his receptors and his body clenching around it as though to slow down and control the rush of pleasure. Well beyond fish puns, he takes a convulsive breath, muffling the harsh sound of it by clasping a hand over his mouth.

“They’d be shellous,” she whispers, leaning further down, her hair concealing him as he squirms and closes his eyes. “Everyone would want to take a tuna with you. I’d have to share with all of them. Don’t bite,” she orders quietly, pushing his hand away and slipping two long, cold fingers into his mouth. Sollux closes his eyes and sucks obediently, tongue stroking the undersides of her fingers as his bulge throbs and buries itself in him in a long, rotating motion that makes him shudder uncontrollably. “You’re so good.” She moves the pads of her fingertips along the sensitive papillae, strokes them with her pointed fingershields. “You’re wobbly as an anemone, you must have needed this. Want me to play with your horns some more?”

“Mm,” he groans quietly as her free hand closes around a large horn and squeezes, expertly stroking.

“You’re so close," she tells him, "I think you're finto this idea.” Sollux leans back and risks spreading his legs a little more. He hovers so close to the edge that when she leans forward and wraps her free arm around him, letting go of his horn, he knows she can feel him shaking. His bulge works harder in his nook than it ever has and he wonders how sore he’ll be later, if she can see and hear his wetness as he feels his climax coming on, if the guilty excitement of fucking himself in public is something he will be able to fantasize about without being mortified before he dies along with everyone else. “Can you imagine everyone looking at you?” she asks in a whisper, slipping her fingers in and out of his mouth. Her eyes remain fixed on the monitor as he finally tenses, globes tight and ready and at the point of no return. “Everyone taking a tuna just to fill you up,” she says, but at that moment his nook launches its takeover of his mind and he's there, warmth radiating through the joints of his hips and erupting in his thorax, the chitinous ridges of his nook fluttering and suddenly clamping down to milk his bulge.

“Mmn!” he moans around her fingers, the tendril between his thighs thrusting deeply into him and stiffening, releasing its burden in the storage sac deep within his nook. Left to store up, his genetic material not only fills but expands the small vessel; Sollux shudders at the sensation of his nook flooding with thick fluid, the heat and stretch of it unpleasantly stimulating his oversensitized receptors as Feferi wraps cool arms around the chair and runs wet fingertips across his lips. His mind buzzes with a blank, spreading heaviness that sinks down into his brain, oozes into all the crevices and dulls his ability to think. "Oh," he breathes, quivering. "Oh, god, fucking unbelievable."

“Whale,” Feferi concludes, patting his horn, “I guess you betta clean yourshellf up.” Panting, Sollux feels his bulge begin to retract and winces with trepidation at the heavy fullness of his storage sac.

“I’ll come back,” he says awkwardly, surrounding himself with psionic light and flying a little unsteadily from the room. “I gotta piss,” he announces a little too loudly. Feferi smiles fondly after him as Terezi lets out a surprised, harsh cackle.

"Good to know!" she shouts down the corridor. "Thanks!" She pauses and sniffs the air, eyebrows creasing in either understanding or curiosity before she inscrutably shrugs and returns to her computer, laughing again.

“I don’t know how you put up with that asshole,” Karkat volunteers from the next chair, incurious but spiteful. Feferi smiles and pushes Sollux’s chair in to hide the wet spot.

“Whale, Karcrab, you mostly see him when he's being a sprat. But I've learned that he dolphinitely has some creel-y good qualities,” she says sagely, perching on the desk beside the keyboard. Karkat stares at her, a muscle in his jaw working as he processes the pun array and comes to the conclusion she expects, disgust and aversion as he shakes his head and rolls his eyes at her. Grinning, Feferi settles in to wait as he turns away.


End file.
